Neon
by Ra Cho Tamer
Summary: A sad little story set a few months before Meet Casey Jones. Rated T for death


Neon

By Ra

This is in honor of my favorite lights that have captivated my eyes ever since I was little. They would cast shadows into my mind and make everything a much darker place while lightening it up at the same time. I think it describes Casey very well in the Fox Box Ep "Meet Casey Jones". This story is kinda like a prologue to it, but not for the timid (man I love scaring people). Before I make my tribute, I don't own the TMNT or any characters related from their universe pouts and I don't know who Casey's dad's name is. So, this is for you. In honor of all the dreams you've created and how darker you made my life at the same time. For you. Neon

Bright neon lights shone across the streets and into the darkened windows around them. Casey Jones couldn't sleep. The dulled, tattered curtains whipped lazily around in the gentle breeze that seeped through the open window and into the stinking hot room. He could see his reflection in the dusty, cracked mirror that hung at his left. A wild mass of dark hair amongst the sweat and flesh of his body on top of graying sheets. It was hot that night in New York City. But Casey wasn't concerned about the heat. He wasn't concerned about his friends, money, or world issues right about now. Well, maybe one world issue. It wasn't really one, but it was the only thing on his mind - The Purple Dragons. They have interrupted into his life to many times before. This was the last straw. They have pushed him over the edge. They have forced him to think only of their sneering faces. Only for one thing - they killed his father.

Casey hadn't seen his old man in ages. So he called him to see how he was doing only afew days ago. They talked for awhile and both agreed that it was ages since they had seen each other face to face in afew years, they would finally meet each other again to catch up on each other. Their meeting place was central park at eight on Tuesday because the old man's job didn't end until seven. His son could deal with that. He was just glad that his father at least had a job where as he was unemployed. Not only that, but he wanted to practice some ice hockey downtown that day. Tuesday night loomed over Casey as Sunday and Monday went by. On Tuesday at seven fifteen, he pulled on his trench coat and jumped on his motorcycle. Revving it twice, he took off out of his storage unit with a thunderous roar. His jeans and trench coat flapped in the breeze like flags on the sides of the bike. It was a long way to central park. Casey would sometimes check his sports' watch at red lights. He was starting to run late. At eight Casey locked up his prized position to a tree and made his way to the fountain at the center. Some neon lights came in from the dance club nearby, casting brightly colored reds, oranges and blues into the park. He could hear someone moaning out loud, punches, kicks, sneering voices. In that moment, Casey's heart stopped. His eyes widened. His anger grew. From the shelter of the trees, he could see five Purple Dragons kicking a man with slightly graying dark hair and tanned skin. It was unmistakable. Every one of the punks wore a dragon tattoo on their faces, hands, stomachs or arms as they tightened their grip on pipes, chains and bats. Gasps came less and less as more and more blood dribbled from his mouth and nose. The man struggled up, but what appeared to be the leader punched him square in the jaw. Two cries could be heard then – one was from the man moaning out in pain as he thudded to the ground. The other from the bushes as a masked, wild man came jumping out and swinging a hockey stick about in rage. The gang members stood there, petrified. The next thing they knew, the hockey stick found its mark at lightning speed. Soon four of the five were in a heap unconscious on the ground. Casey looked about as he growled low from underneath his hockey mask. Then he came. A guy with two bats. He swung them both at Casey who was sent flying into the trees, crashing into one huge oak. Moaning, he struggled up only to receive the bats in his face again. Blood ran in rivers from underneath his shirt and jeans as the guy stood there with the baseball bats smirking. He raised one above his head, about to crush Casey's skull. Neon lights created the world in new color, casting long shadows over the leather wrappings of the bat. Casey's eyes widened and rolled out of the way, taking his opportunity and knocking the Dragon's feet out from underneath him. The hockey stick became orange as the guy was washed over in a shade of neon green as he fell to the ground. Blood dripped of the end of Casey's chin as his eyes narrowed. His anger couldn't be contained. He lifted the hockey stick and swung it down on the guy's legs. Screams of mercy filled the now silent streets of New York. Begging, pleading to be free and that he was in enough pain already. But Casey wouldn't listen. He kept on raising his hockey stick and swinging it down on his victim's legs, rib cage, arms and shoulders. There before him in only minutes was a broken man, both physically and emotionally. Weeping, he looked up at Casey and into the cold blue eyes that glared out from underneath the hockey mask. The guy was too broken to speck without pain searing throughout his entire body, putting his mind on fire. But his face said it all – finish me. Casey raised his hockey stick one more time and swung it down on the neck with a sickening crunch. The man was dead. Purple lights now came from the dance club as Casey put his hockey stick over his shoulder and went to his father. The aging man's eyes widened and gasped. "Please…….don't kill me…" tears came to his eyes. "I...have……..a……meeting….with……my……my……"

"Son." Casey finished. He lifted up his hockey masked and looked at his father. The yellow tears came down the man's face.

"Casey……why?"

"Because they messed up my life too much already damn it!" Casey burst. "They were punching you! Kicking you! It was just the night of the store all over again! If I didn't do anything, they would've killed you." Red neon tears mingled with his blood as he spoke. The man shuddered as he breathed.

"Casey…don't……you see? I……am………dying……it can……not……be…prevented…" he trailed off as more green tears ran down his face.

"Dad! Don't say that!" Casey yelled. "I can get you to a hospital! Just hang on!" His father breathed heavily as his breaths grew ragged and much more painful by the second.

"Son….I…my……life……it…is…not………all…that I wanted……it to be…" Tears of fading orange dripped off his chin nobly. "Your…mother is…gone………I…am…alone……I'm glad…I got to……see you……one last time…" Casey's tears turned deep blue as he looked at his dying father.

"I'll avenge you dad." He whispered. "I promise." The man nodded. And with the green tears still on his face, became still. His breathing stopped. Casey felt for a pulse. None. That night, after he had taken his father's body to hospital, he cried in pain, rage and sadness while he ran wild on his motorcycle. He took out his bloodstained hockey stick from its bag and whacked the trashcans on the curb as he drove past. He will avenge his father. He will…he stopped when he heard a woman scream and a kid cry out in terror. Casey parked his motorbike in a shadowed corner as more neon lights came from across the road. Three Purple Dragon members were taking a woman's purse and going through it. The woman huddled up to the side ally in pure fear, clutching to what looked to be a six year old son. Casey's heart panged with sadness when he realized that was how old he was when the Purple Dragons started messing with his life. As soon as the sadness came, it was replaced by anger and rage. And revenge. He made a tuting sound with his tongue. "You guys have no originality." He swung his hockey stick that was tinged with pink into the gut of the guy who was keeping watch over the mother and kid. "Jumping on an innocent woman in the dark. Ha!" he kicked the second guy nearby in the chest and sent him sprawling to the ground. "The good thing is I'm handing out lessons on how to make the city a safer place." He punched the last guy in the head with a yellow hand. "And lucky for you, you are my first class." As the three struggled to get up, Casey bent down and picked up the handbag that was tinted with purple from the neon lights. "Sorry 'bout this ma'am." He said formally. "But it's going to get a bit messy here. Best hightail outta here before they can get you again." The woman didn't need to be told twice. She took her son's and ran out of the colored ally and into the darkness. Now those innocent bystanders were out of the way, there was much more room to move. Casey grinned from underneath his red shaded mask. Time for a little re-education.

Casey still couldn't sleep. His father was resting in peace at the cemetery at the bottom of the hillside outside of town like he always wanted. He heard crying and evil laughter. His moans of annoyance turned into growls of anger as he leaned out of his window. In the orange and blue neon lights around the building, two Dragons, a guy and a girl, were using force to overpower a guy who refused to give up his wallet. Frowning with dislike, Casey went into the kitchen and grabbed his hockey mask and hockey stick after pulling on a clean set of jeans and a shirt. He pulled on his hockey mask and shoes and ran out of his apartment with his eyes glaring. "Purple Dragon scum. They'll pay…they'll all pay for what they've done!" He jumped down the steps and glared at the two dragons. The female dragon dropped the wallet whose owner picked up instantly and ran off for his life. The two gang member took out chains and pipes, but they shouldn't have bothered. In seconds they were out cold on the ground. Casey looked down at his work with pride as he raised his hockey stick once more. _Not one of these dragon scum will escape _he thought. _Not without a call from Casey Jones_

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